


Background chatter

by ShadowSelene (Shadowdianne)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 10:02:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17599187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowdianne/pseuds/ShadowSelene
Summary: Prompt set in season 5 after Robin is killed by Hades, Emma (who is still with Hook) realizes her feelings for Regina, and accidentally confesses to Snow who tells her not to say anything so soon after Regina's heartbreak.Asked by anon via tumblr





	Background chatter

The noise, the chatter that was so unmistakable Granny’s disappeared from Snow’s mind as the brunette eyed her daughter, cup of tea still on her hands, the slowly cooling beverage sloshing inside the cup with every breath she took. And Emma, Emma, with her chin and that “something” that made Snow think of David whenever she glanced at her face and her shoulders and the way she carried herself when she thought no one was looking, all but disappeared now, washed away by red-rimmed eyes and fidgeting fingers. Behind them, at the other side of the counter, Granny kept offering a coffee refill to the dwarves, the scent of breakfast heady in the air as the morning light kept its golden glow, draping itself around the corners of the booths near the windows. Snow, however, usually so in tune with that, with the town that was her home, could only swallow and stare, eyes unblinking as she kept on gazing at Emma, at the way the worry that had been shimmering there, under the surface, exploded and transformed into a look of pure horror, of anguished worry and hopelessness.

Somehow, Snow realized belatedly, Emma hadn’t wanted to speak like she had done, hadn’t wanted to confide in her. And while that hurt, Snow pressed the tip of her tongue against the back of her teeth and placed the cup down. It made a soft sound, a thud that got lost, neither of them truly paying any attention to the cup, or to the breakfast they had been enjoying until now, but Snow knew, felt, that the movement itself had been followed by slowly widening, panicked eyes.

“Emma…” She began, only to stop herself as she tried to gauge what the other’s reaction was going to be. The woman that sat in front of her, after all, didn’t seem like the mellower version of her daughter she had grown accustomed to see –something she know felt as if that had been on itself a terrible mistake to accept and encourage, the feeling a sinking hole on the bottom of her stomach- but a more active version, frantic even, in where the gleam around her eyes, full of that something Snow inherently knew was the magic that she had within her, seemed a second away from bursting through her veins, crackling her skin, consuming her.

Pressing her fingers against the edge of her cup, eyes moving from her daughter’s face to the surface of the table they were seated at, Snow breathed in the sweet air that filled the place.

_“And she is alone! And I want to be there! To be with her!”_

She could play dumb, she considered; she could feign that she hadn’t heard the brittle tone on Emma’s voice at the end of her words, she could smile and nod and not think of Regina’s own tear-framed eyes, nor the way she had looked back in the funeral. Tired, scared, devastated. She could do that.

Or, she mentally chided herself for such idea, she could try something else. She could ask Emma, she could support her, she could…

She stopped herself once more; knowing that she had a duty to Regina as well. Their friendship, the tentative one that wasn’t all that strong –not when compared to the link her daughter and the brunette shared- was also something she needed to take into account. And, maybe, perhaps, because of exactly this reason Snow focused her eyes once again Emma’s figure, on the way her daughter had her arms close to her body, her fingers prodding, playing, drumming. She could recognize that look; she had seen it before, back when she had been Mary Margaret and Emma a pleasant stranger to share her flat with. The blonde was about to bolt.

Which was why she reached forward, over her cup of tea, over Emma’s hot chocolate, over the crumbs of their already eaten bear claws, and picked up the blonde’s right hand; giving it a squeeze before smiling softly. All too softly perhaps.

“She knows you will be there.” She spoke, and she felt Emma’s eyes searching her face, muscles taut, shoulders tense and just a tad of pink dusting her cheeks. It was the blonde’s turn to open her mouth only to stop herself at the end, her teeth peeking between her lips as she then nibbled at them, the energy in the air seeming to shift, to grow thicker but slower as if the former worry was dissipating and even if Snow knew she didn’t truly understand how magic worked she decided to smile reassuringly at that sensation. Even if, she mentally added, what she was about to do would probably break her daughter in half.

She wasn’t stupid, she knew how love looked like. She had seen a glimpse, a barely there seed a long time ago, the ghost of a hug passing between her daughter and the other brunette as they looked at each other, hands touching, world around them all trembling, about to disappear from existence. She had seen it again, not so long ago, on Regina’s eyes, on the way she had picked up the dagger, knees wobbly and a lost glimpse on her eyes. She had seen it again. And again. And again.

And yet, she hadn’t truly  _seen_  it until Emma’s words, until the blonde’s every essence had seemed about to burst, to break, to split in half. And she wondered exactly how blind she had truly been.

“She knows you are there.” She repeated once more, patting Emma’s skin, a faint buzzing making her frown for a second, not entirely sure of how much of that was Emma’s magic. Her voice was thick, the inflexion on the verb different, strained enough, and green eyes widened as they latched onto it. A sad smile spreading her lips, Snow shook her head.

Once upon a time she would have opposed. Some part of her still wondered why as she had thought Killian made Emma happy. Another part of her scoffed at that very same idea. Not when her daughter had proved again and again how she would do anything for the woman that now sat alone on her mansion, another death pending over her head.

And it was so stupid, she added briefly, picking the cup once more with fingers that felt frozen as she sighed. Because while Emma looked at Regina as if she would and had given her very soul in order to keep her safe, Regina would stand proudly and do the same. Without a second thought.

She had seen the devastating grief that had made Emma push and insist back when the Ice Queen had made her appearance; the lack of sleep, the lack of rest, eating her. And yet, this time, when a body laid on the cemetery and Emma’s nightmares seemed to be filled by remorse, Regina hadn’t pushed her away. Not after everything that had transpired.

Not even tasting the tea, she eyed her daughter with slightly narrowed eyes.

Maybe, she considered, maybe in the future Regina would be able to stop and have the same conversation Emma seemed be already having on her head. Maybe.

But now…

“But maybe she needs time.” She finally spoke, and she could see Emma’s heart stopping for a second, the need to deny the meaning behind such easy words obvious on the way she clenched her hands together. “Time to think.” Snow insisted, a slow smile spreading her lips, one that she could feel that didn’t reach her eyes. Not that she wanted that. “Don’t you?”

It was clumsy, she knew it. It wasn’t smooth, but she doubted Emma needed that. Not when Snow could feel her own guilt gnawing at her, at the look of terror Emma was still exuding. Had she pushed? She wondered. Had she made Emma think she couldn’t, shouldn’t confide on her?

In a way she could see how; her own decisions based about prophecies and nightmares had robbed Emma the possibility of deciding. A reality they hadn’t talked about. One she didn’t feel strong enough to even acknowledge at the moment. And, because, of that, she nodded to herself, to Emma, asking her to understand, to wait.

“She won’t listen.”

And there it was, the almost sobbing, dejected tone, the fear of a rejection Snow doubted that would ever happen.

“I think she will.” She replied but said nothing else and Emma shook her head and, not even bothering to pretend anymore, stood and left. The jingle of the dinner echoing behind her as she did so.


End file.
